


Helmet of Fate

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Pre-Canon, revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 01:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13602432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Lotor was born dead, and his mother kept his body alive for years with quintessence until one day, Allura came to him, curious about a present she had received.





	Helmet of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Longpig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longpig/gifts).



It all began because of a helmet. 

The girl was not more than a handful of deca-phoebs when she came to visit the scientist on Daibazaal. Many stories had traveled back to Altea about the old mad woman: that she hoarded monsters in her lab, that her husband—the great Emperor of Daibazaal—sometimes feared her, that she had once been of Altea. But little Allura had a question to ask her. 

The lady was hard at work for the longest while before her attention broke just enough to become aware of the tiny girl leaning against the archway of the lab as if unable to decide whether she should make herself invisible to get the scientist’s attention. 

“Well?” the lady said. “What do you want? Who brought you?” 

Allura winced. The tone wasn’t _too_ harsh, she supposed, and she was being a bit rude by barging in without sending a proper intent of invitation. 

“What’s your name?” Allura asked. 

The scientists glowered at her, the shadows deepening in the wrinkles under her eyes, for a couple moments before releasing a sigh. “I am Honerva. What is yours, child?” 

“I am Princess Allura,” she said with a curtsy. 

At that the scientist sighed again and rolled her eyes. “Should have guessed. The resemblance to Fala is uncanny in appearance and mannerism.” 

Allura wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she smiled all the same. 

“What brings you in today?” 

“I wanted to thank you for my gift! I love it so much!” 

The look on the lady’s face told Allura that she must have forgotten all about the helmet, so she helped her along. 

“The one you sent me when I was born!” 

“Oh.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re welcome. It was a customary gesture, princess.” 

Allura giggled. “It’s a boy’s helmet!” 

The humorless smile disappeared, but no wrath was displayed on Honerva’s face. 

“Ah, that…” 

She approached young Allura, and crouching on one knee she cupped Allura’s cheeks in her slim hands. Their eyes met. “Do you want to know a secret? Just a little something between us?” 

Allura hesitated. Her father had always warned her that secrets led to trouble, but something heavy lingered in Honerva’s eyes—pain, Allura realized—and she couldn’t help nodding her head. Maybe Daibazaal’s scary old scientist was just sad, and there was a reason. She wanted to know. 

Honerva got back to her feet and motioned Allura to her side. She was led away to an antechamber within the lab, in a far corner that she would have mistaken for a broom closet or the loo. But it was a much smaller lab, more like an advanced hospital patient room. The tiny bed was more like a fancy glass container: half of the case was encased, hiding most of the inhabitant’s body from view. Honerva pulled the top half of the glass case off, muttering that a little air wouldn’t hurt him. Allura had to step onto the dais on tiptoe to get a good look of the young child’s face. 

He could not have been older than her, but his skin was a blueish grey and his hair thin. A permanent frown was set on his soft jaws. 

“He was born dead,” Honerva explained behind Allura. “Born just a few days after yourself. My husband—”

“The emperor?” Allura interjected. 

Honerva nodded. “The emperor believed we must bury the child. There was nothing more we could do. But I was determined to make him live. I studied the properties of quintessence for many years, for as long as I have known my husband, and I felt myself on the verge of discovery, of breaking the code of _life_.

“Look at him, Allura. His body grows. He’s as big as you. A dead infant body does not grow. I kept him alive with quintessence.” 

“Can he wake up and play with me?” Allura asked. 

Honerva smiled sadly. “I’m afraid he can’t. Quintessence keeps his body alive, but I have never seen his eyes open.” 

Allura anchored herself on her elbows to get a closer to him. “Poor thing. What did you name him?” 

“I…I wasn’t meant to name him.” 

“Why?” 

“You would not understand, child.” 

“I understood everything you told me so far!” Allura flashed her a stern look over her shoulders. “Does naming him make you like him more? So you’re worried that if you named him, your heart would break even more?” 

Honerva leaned back and folded her arms. “You’re a clever one.” 

“What would you have named him, then? I would call him Sincline. The strongest man in Altean history. Then your son can wake up and be as strong as him!” 

As Allura studied his face, her eyes—wistful as her imagination carried her to faraway places—glimmered with tears. A few drops dribbled onto the boy’s cheek. 

Allura made to wipe them away when the boy’s eyes suddenly flashed wide open and he took a deep breath.

* * *

Allura visited frequently. Sometimes she brought the young prince sweets she had made in her very own kitchen—with plenty of help from her father and Coran, or from the sounds of it the sweet could easily have poisoned her son beyond saving—or she came with her favorite books to read to him. Sometimes they just spoke, of her home in Altea, or of what Daibazaal was like outside the lab. She spoke of the helmet fondly, as if it was fate that had entwined their paths together. 

And sometimes, when Honerva wasn’t listening down on them like an azzanihawk, of getting married some day. Just dumb, innocent talk of youths slowly falling in love.

Nothing that Honerva studied could explain the phenomenon which had occurred to awaken her son. She had checked Allura for magic—of course, Alfor was a Sacred Altean, the girl was just as well, but there was nothing to account for how well the magic worked in bringing her son back to her by just a single tear. 

The prince’s skin blossomed into a healthy glow. The greyish tinged drew warm into a soft lavender, and after proper feedings his hair thickened into silvery white. But most striking were his eyes, unlike either hers nor Zarkon’s. They became a soft blue, almost like Allura’s, as if she had somehow marked him as her own. And his eyes would glimmer each time Princess Allura came to visit. 

But Sincline was not his name, though he used it in the girl’s presence to please her. 

Puppy love would come to serve him well later on, Lotor later mused, many eons later, as he studied the details of his glove, waiting for the Castle of Lions to deem his ship non-hostile enough to come on board. Honerva had given him the name after Allura had left that fateful day, one he was made to keep secret. As if she had somehow known what was to come. 

The princess never knew his real name, and Coran seemed to have forgotten him amidst all the chaos of war. 

For all they knew, Sincline must have died along with Daibazaal along with his mother. Or whatever foolish tale the late King Alfor told his blindly devoted subjects. 

Would she finally remember once she learned the name of his ship? The strongest ship in galactic history named after the strongest man in Altean history. Or perhaps reminding her of her of that little helmet might jog her memory. 

The command for him to step out of his ship blasted on the speaker, and he smirked. Getting to his feet, he straightened his shoulders and made his way to the door, waiting for it to open. 

Time to formally introduce himself to the Altean princess.


End file.
